


The Name of the Game is Heat

by pigeonfluff



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Background Astrid/Bren, Cock & Ball Torture, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Edging, Female Ejaculation, First Time, Humiliation, Implied Blumendrei, Implied Relationships, M/M, Masturbation, Messy Teenage Relationships, No Negotiation, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Rough Sex, Solstryce Academy, Squirting, Verbal Humiliation, Whipping, blueballing, bren gets in over his head, eadwulf is not to be fucked with, liebe und triebe, minimal aftercare, misuse of magic, tease and denial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-20 23:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30012612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigeonfluff/pseuds/pigeonfluff
Summary: "Who needed love, when there was lust to warm the bed?"Bren and Eadwulf have been playing their little game for months, and now it comes to a head.
Relationships: Astrid/Eodwulf (Critical Role), Eodwulf/Bren Aldric Ermendrud, Eodwulf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	1. Bren's Game

**Author's Note:**

> So this one is a bit heavy, yall. I started as a prompt of "Bren and Eadwulf practice seduction skills on each other" and was supposed to be a bit tender, but then went a bit dark. Mind the tags.
> 
> Set during the Solstryce years. The characters ages here are nebulous, but they're older teens.

It starts like this. There is a smile, a flex. And so you retort. Smile back, say some pretty words when he least expects it. But he is competitive and soon sly glances and careful wit are not enough. It becomes touch, his hand cupping your ass in training, just a slip, his legs against yours under a desk, his arms brushing you in the halls. So your hands slip and caress his chest as you sling spells, your nose bumps his chin as you sit up, lips so close to his, you brush against his neck as you sit down to eat. You are careful, and never let your game show. You never let him know how much it stirs within you, or what it stirs. After all, you have Astrid, who is good to you. She is a perfect partner, even when she stops touching, stops bantering, starts finding excuses to be elsewhere with coy grins after meals. But it is fine, it will be fine.

It is late when you get dinner, and your heart races as Eadwulf reaches around you for a napkin, caressing your waist as his arm returns and sending a blush into your cheeks and ears. You get him back by gesticulating, arm raising just right to stroke his cheek. Astrid smiles at you, laughing at your antics, and you glow.

"This has been nice. But … I must go study. I am close to a breakthrough."

"Ja, of course! May I walk you home..?"

She nods, and acquiesces. This is perfect. You try to ignore Eadwulf's dark look as you stride out of the dining hall. It is harder to ignore the ghostly feeling of his warmth at your side. You smile at Astrid as she bids you farewell for now outside her room, and kiss her good night as always. You press thoughts of him away. It was just a game, always just a game, like everything else here. A skill to be honed.

That night, he catches your eye as he tugs off his shirt, undershirt and bracers highlighting his strength, his power, and you fight to stay on your feet. 

"Wulf...."

"Hm? Oh, like the view Bren?"

"You're a cheeky bastard."

"I thought you liked playing games."

"Ja. Games."

"You started it this summer. Remember?"

You look away, face warm. Of course you remember, it was hard not to with a mind like yours. You had all been tipsy, sharing kisses and touches in the dim lighting on the edge of the festival, just three students, about to become protegees.

"That was... Different."

"Was it, Bren?"

His eyes were cold, and locked in yours. You fight the urge to look away again, fight the nervousness rising within you. He's shifted again, stepped closer, and you can smell him now, musky, masculine, powerful.

You scoot backwards, looking around, trying to escape the inescapable. It is fruitless, and instead you bump the nightstand, swearing as you try and fail to catch the falling trinkets. Panicking you fall to your knees, back to Eadwulf, and you catch sight of a small tube. Gears turn, even as you hear him stride towards you.

"Shit Bren... You don't need to be like this..."

"Nein, I do not... You just want what Astrid has hmm?" You stain your lips with the makeup and let the magic loose, feeling as it settles into him, his face going soft. Your heart catches as he smiles again.

"Ja... What she has ... It's hard to not be jealous."

Just a game. Just a game of magic and wits, and now seduction. Master Ikithon will be pleased.

"I want you to be jealous. She is hot. Hotter than you, stronger than you... M-maybe you should prove yourself. I could walk out right now..." You swear again internally, cursing the tremble in your voice, the magic buzzing in your head even as he's crawling forward, pressing his face to your thigh.

"She's hot but she doesn't give head. Bren..." His eyes are big, darker than before. He smiles, undoing your pants. You focus hard, willing yourself to not drop the spell.

His hands are big but nimble and in seconds, you're exposed. He pauses for a second, catching your eye and licking his lip. "Aren't I charming? Handsome?"

You cannot reply before he's pulled your cock into his mouth, and the warmth is overwhelming. You gasp, groaning, and  _ oh _ it feels good, so good… You falter and lose focus, and all the magic flies free. It doesn't matter, he's giving you more stimulation than you've had in ages, and…

Then the pleasure is gone.

"What the fuck Bren?! You…!"

He's pulled back and risen to his full height, towering over you. You gesture again, but before you can seize the spell, he has your wrists in his hands, and he's pulling your arms over your head as you squirm.

"I-it was a game, like you said. That is all."

"Charming me is a game to you?"

"Not my fault you didn't establish the rules …"

He scowls, and you flinch, before he picks you up, tossing you onto his bed. He is fast, following right behind, and stronger than you. You squirm helplessly.

"Beg for me. No more playing. Act like a man, Bren."

"B-but I am… I-I am not…"

"Feel lucky. I could take you right now, but I have honour." You swallow hard, eyes tracing down his body, tense and… undeniably attractive. It might not be… terrible...

"Now, be a good boy, hmm? Beg like the little bitch you've been playing at." His free hand traces down your chest, warm even through the fabric of your shirt.

"P-please… j-just… finish this… I did not intend…"

"Like hell you didn't." He strokes your cock once, and you moan, choking as you find his fingers in your mouth seconds later. Your eyes fly open, and he smirks

"If you promise not to fight, I'll give you your hands, and we can strip like civilized men, hmm?"

A shiver rolls down your spine, and you realise you've been sucking his fingers unconsciously. You think back again to your summer escapade, think back to how it feels with Astrid, wet and warm and wonderful, messy but… you would be lying if you said you were not curious. And curiosity has always been your weak point. You nod, and let the fire settle in your gut. You've lost this game, perhaps, you think. But this could be good training too, could it not?

"Wh-what… what about Astrid?"

"You want to be a good bitch for her too? I could call her. You know how to Message."

"N-no! No, you can not, you would not."

"I don't think she'd mind…" he chuckles, and the sound is dark. Again you shiver, feeling your blood pool, as though you needed to be any harder.

"I-I can keep a secret."

"Our little game. I understand." You sigh in relief, but you do not have much time to relish it. While you'd been fumbling, he had divested himself, cock now standing hard and proud. You can't help the swell of pride in your chest as you realise you're the reason for all of this. Trembling, you fumble with your own clothes, trying not to swear or blush too much. He's seen you naked before but… it is different now, somehow.

He scoffs, glancing at you. "Not much to look at is there? You're lucky you've got brains, Ermendrud. They're the only thing worth fucking you for."

You squirm, but he's already looked away, digging in the drawer he keeps beside his bed. You try to shift, try to get an idea of what he may be looking for, but he glares at you, and instinctively you freeze.

"Better. Now spread your legs." One hand strokes at his cock, the other is slick with some sort of fluid. You swallow hard, trying to not regret everything.

"Wulf maybe we should …"

"Spread. Your. Legs."

You close your eyes and do as you've been bid. His presence is irresistible, and you feel the fool for having taunted him. You gasp as his hand brushes your thigh, fire running through your skin. You swear you've never felt more tense, and then you feel his fingers probing at your ass, and you whimper. 

"Don't be coy, Bren…" he rubs slowly, and the sensation is electrifying, almost as good as the feeling of magic itself.

"I-I'm not it's just …. Ah!" You sit up in shock as he penetrates, only to fall back as he thrusts it, the sensation unlike anything you've felt before. You feel… oddly full, the strangeness somehow pleasurable as the finger brushes sensitive nerves. 

"Sch-schiesse is this how… ah! Astrid feels when I…?"

"I'm certain we can find a spell for that, if you'd like to find out… that's a good bitch…" slowly, impatiently, he presses the second finger in, this time holding you down as you buck into it, moaning sharply.

"Keep it down. We don't want to be heard. Understand?"

"Y-yes…" you hesitate and bite your lip, even as it curls into a smirk. "Yes sir. Y-you'd better fuck me quickly then… we don't have much time…"

Just a game. It was just a game. You'd be the coy little flirt, and wear the target down so you could escape. By any means, that was what Ikithon always told you. And if this was what it took… well, there were more painful ways to go about it.

Again, Eadwulf laughed. "Still cheeky? Fine then. Don't complain if you can't handle my cock." Unceremoniously, he removes his fingers, and flips you over arms wrapping around you. He pauses, and you can feel the heat of his cock against your hole, nearly blistering. You glance over your shoulder, trying to get a better view. His eyes are closed, and he's breathing heavily. You smile a bit, captured by his beauty, even as you tremble in the wake of his callous words. And then he thrusts, and everything goes blank.

You hear a growl, and you yelp as his hand tangles in your hair, yanking the little there is, pulling your head back. Your ass burns as it stretches, your legs shake with the sheer sensation of it all.

"I-it hurts! Wulf!"

"I told you not to bitch about it." He thrusts again, ripping a groan from you. Satisfied, he starts to fuck in earnest. To your surprise, you find your moans coming more quickly, the pain slowly becoming its own form of pleasure as your body grows accustomed to his cock, accustomed to the weight of him behind you. Every tug of your hair sends sparks into your belly. You feel like you might combust, in this tenuous…. Well. It is not a relationship. It is nothing like what you've shared with Astrid. She is… cruel in her own way, she is not…

A snarl, and you are pulled from your headspace, and back to the reality, Eadwulf fucking you without mercy. "I asked a question, Ermendrud."

"I-I… yes?"

A slap rings out, and pain blooms across your face. You bite back tears.

"Pay attention. Do you want to be a good boy for me?"

"Y-yes… please sir…." Appeasement. That was always a solid plan. "Please let me be good… "

"Good. I'm going to fuck you until I cum, and then you will clean me up. Understand?"

"Y-yes sir."

He grunts and you sigh in relief. Your own cock aches. You swear you've never been so hard before, even when playing Astrid's games. The thrusts don't cease, and you're starting to give way, body feeling like jelly, the stimulation not quite enough to push you to your own edge. You reach for your cock, only for Eadwulf to grab your hand. "No. Not yet."

You whine, but there is nothing you can do. You close your eyes, and let go. Everything falls away, the world is just this bed, and this cock fucking your tender ass. Time itself falls away, until you hear soft moans and feel the burning heat that must be his cum deep inside you. He stills for a minute before pulling out, leaving you to collapse.

"Not a bad hole. With a bit of training… you'd be just as good as Beck."

"Th-thank you sir…" the praise, faint though it is, makes your heart flutter. You try to focus on the game, try to regain yourself, crawling shakily towards him. The cock seems bigger when it's in your face, the scent musky, and unlike his other odors.

"Go on…. It won't hurt you…"

You lap at it gently. It tastes salty and pungent but… not terrible. You wrap your mouth around the head, and peer up at Eadwulf. He looks content, smug, unlike himself. He looks  _ hot _ and you wonder why you never saw him like this before, never tried this before. More eager, you set to work, licking and sucking as he grows hard again in your mouth. It's easier to let go of time now, to let him touch and manipulate you, to let the hair tugging become pleasure. If this was the game now, then you can't help but feel a bit smug in your deepest self. Wulf was right, this was better than a tease.

"I'm going to cum again… swallow it."

You nod hazily, and push down onto the cock, as deeply as you can before gagging, stroking the base, moaning gently in encouragement. It only takes seconds for him to release, and again you are overwhelmed, trying desperately to swallow, but you cough, face getting messy in the process. You blink back tears and he laughs again.

"You talk big Bren. But you know so little… hopefully this lesson sticks, ja?"

You blink again, and come back to yourself, body aching, cock still hard, skin sticky. 

“W-wulf…?"

He is pulling on the old shirt he sleeps in, wiping his hands and face off.

"I-I'm still… W-wulf .."

"Oh, I know. Go to bed."

"B-but…" You shift. If he would just touch, if you could just…. But he is glaring again, and you are cowed.

"Go to bed, wipe yourself off. And if you even try, I will tie your hands together every night for a month, understand?"

You whimper again. "But…."

"This is our game. You started it. Don't complain, or next time I won't be so nice."

"Y-yes sir." Shaking you stumble to the washbasin in the corner and clean your face, red lipstick smearing with cum in a shameful mix.

Your sheets are cold against your still burning body as you lay down, trying to ignore the pain in your ass and the sensation of cum dripping from you. Eadwulf is already asleep, snores echoing in the tiny room. Shame wells up, and you cannot stop the tears. This was what you'd asked for. This was all you were good for.

You could play this game as well as Astrid or anyone else. You'd show them both. You'd prove it. Next time He’d be the one on his knees. You think again about how he reacted, about how deeply he'd wanted you and bask in the warmth and comfort of that. 

Who needed love, when there was lust to warm the bed?

You toss and turn until sleep claims you, and again everything goes blank.


	2. Eadwulf's Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I've ever written so much so fast before. These three disasters are the best muses I could have asked for.
> 
> Once again, this story is heavy. I've updated the tags to accommodate the chapter. It was supposed to be more comforty but... well, what can you do when the muses go another way?

It is early when you wake, sun not yet cresting above the horizon. The room is quiet, and chilled. It's been too long since you slept so well. Bren lays in his own bed, still out like a light. You frown as you catch sight of his face. It is messy, tracked with tears and smudged makeup. You feel nausea settle into your gut as you remember the night before.

Shit.

He'd charmed you! How else were you supposed to respond? The magic muddled your mind, made you testy, he'd known that, he'd seen Master Ikithon chain you down before testing you like that. It had been stupid, and reckless. Bren knew that. And… It had been a good fuck. You'd spoken harshly, but it would be nothing. Sighing, you brush his cheek before donning a clean uniform. One night wouldn't mean much. Today he'd tease again, like always, and Astrid would follow, and it would be fine. It had just been a game.

* * *

It is not fine. Bren avoids you as often as he can, not daring to look you in the eyes. He murmurs when he speaks to you, shies away any time you seem like you may touch him. He limps through the halls, trying so hard to move carefully, but you can tell, you've always known when he was hurting. The dread in your gut grows, and by dinner you feel like you're going to explode. You can't even bring yourself to look at him. Desperate, you scribble a note on some paper, and slide it to Astrid.

"What's… what's that?"

"Just some notes Bren. You know how I get distracted in class. Wulf's going to review that physiology lesson with me tonight."

"Ah. Alright. I should… leave then."

"Take your time Bren, at least eat something first. He's going to meet me later."

Her words are for Bren, but her eyes are for you, dark and angry. You swallow, and question your decision. But then Bren slinks away, food still barely touched and you know you had no choice.

She rises sharply, eyes still locked on you. You shift awkwardly, trying to look anything other than desperate and guilty.

"Training basement. Two hours from now. Don't be late."

She cuts through the hall like a knife and you are left with an uncomfortable problem as her voice settles into you, the air of command intoxicating. You finish the food left, and try not to pace through the halls as you count down the hours on the school bells, unwilling to face Bren again, unable to focus on anything as maudlin as schoolwork. Over and over you try to figure out how to explain everything to her, how to make it seem less awful. Astrid has never been one for mercy, and the looks she’d already given you were more than enough to make you afraid.

And yet, you still find a rush of excitement welling within as you march towards the training room she’d indicated, the private one for Ikithon’s students on the grounds. Astrid was hot, Bren had spoken truly. Hot, and with the presence to frighten even the biggest men back home. And you were going to be alone together. Already you feel blood stirring again, and you will yourself to breathe before knocking.

“Enter.”

One more breath, and you push the door open. She is standing in the middle of a range, dagger in hand. She wears the sleeveless undershirt and tight pants she favours for training, and her focus on the target is unshakeable. With a fluid motion, she lets it fly, and with a resounding thud, it embeds itself in the target. Three others quiver beside it, all expertly aimed. You swallow again, the fear rising like bile in your throat.

“Sassa, I’m…”

A glare, and you shut up immediately. Was this how Bren had felt last night, under your command?

"I'm not in the mood for pet names, Eadwulf. What the fuck did you do to Bren?"

"I-i didn't… it's not… how did you know?!"

"I'm not fucking stupid. Last night you two were eye fucking harder than rabbits in springtime. Today? Why the fuck is he limping?"

"I didn't mean it."

"Like the hells you didn't."

You clench your fists, and look away. She's closer to you now, snarling.

"Look at me when I speak to you, Grieve."

"S-sassa…"

"Sir. Tell me what happened."

"Sir… I…" you sigh again, stomach flipping. "I tried to seduce him last night. Y'know. Like we've been doing on jobs. He came at me with that stupid spell, the charm one the old man showed us, and you know how I get…."

She is still glaring. "And?"

"A-and? That's all. We fucked."

"That's not all. You wouldn't be here if it was."

"I got rough! It happened, it's done! I fucked his ass and his mouth. I came twice. I ordered him not to. I was pissed, a-alright?"

She doesn't flinch, even as your voice raises. It is quiet as the echo of it fades in the space.

"You play dangerous games, Grieve."

"He started it!"

"I don't give a fuck. You asked for this. You feel guilty, no?"

"I…. Yes."

"So… let me make it better. Take your shirt off."

You hesitate, and she scowls.

"Don't test me, Grieve. It's only a game, hmm?"

There will be no winning this. You sigh, and pull your shirt off. She raises an eyebrow, and your undershirt follows after. The air is cool, and you shiver a bit.

"Good. Now… on your knees."

You blink, the same fear and confusion mixing in your gut, even as the power in her voice makes you dizzy with desire.

"I grow tired of your hesitancy. Commit to me Grieve. Or perhaps I'll tell Bren… tell Master even…."

"No. No, don't do that." You fall to your knees, not even crying out as they hit the hard ground. "Make it right, sir."

"What wrong needs righted? Confess."

"I… I scared him. I was aggressive, hard. I don't want him to be scared of me. I want… what he has with you."

"Is that so? Fascinating." 

You cannot see her, but you can hear her. You try to keep your breathing even as she rummages through what must be an equipment bag. It's hard to not turn around, to stay still the way you know she wants.

"So. You harmed him. It is only fair you take harm in return."

"I… yes. Let me atone."

The script is familiar, born of years attending chapel, Pelor's priests easing your mind and conscience. This would be no different. She will give you a task, and you will be better. She will make things right. You inhale, and wait for her words.

And then a whip cracks, and you scream.

“Wh-what the fuck?!”

“You will atone, through pain. The pain of the lash in exchange for the pain of his heart.” 

The whip cracks again, stinging and cutting your back, and again you cry out. It burns, but the shock has settled. Oddly, you find heat pooling in your belly, the pain fading into something else, something more. It is not the worst you’ve felt.

“Do you understand, Grieve?”

“Yes Sir. Please, punish me.”

“Count your lashes.”

You inhale, and the whip cracks again. Your voice is steady as you count in Zemnian, your mother tongue easier to grasp as your mind grapples with the sensations. You hadn’t even known she was practicing this, or for what reason. You wonder if Bren has tasted her lash, if he plays these games with her. Your heart burns with the thought, in jealousy or rage you can’t work out.

Every stripe sets you on fire, or so it feels, growing from a tease, to vicious cuts. You glance at her knives, still deep in their target and almost wish that they were cutting into you instead. It is all too easy to let go, to let your mind become as blank as a stone, your body merely a vessel. You’ve handled worse pain. You groan as she strikes again, voice heaving.

“Z-zwanzig.”

“Good. have you had your fill?”

You can feel the smirk in her voice, but nothing matches seeing her smugness as she steps in front of you. You blink, clearing your mind again, trying to refocus.

“S-sir..?”

“Well? Answer my question.”

“I-I…” you stumble, and shift. The world rushes back and you feel the blood running down your back, knowing it could be worse, you feel that heaviness in your cock, the pressure in your trousers, and again, guilt rises. “I-I am… I am a disgusting man.”

She tilts her head, and chuckles, stepping forward. You try to shuffle back, but the movement makes your back sting and you fall short, only to moan as her foot finds your crotch.

“Ah… I see… what a terrible problem to have, Grieve… I wouldn’t have guessed you like to be on your knees. Suits you though.”

She pulls back, and kicks swiftly, connecting solidly with your tender cock. It takes everything you have to not scream or curl up, the impact rocking through you, electrifying your every nerve. 

“Wh-what the  _ fuck _ Sa-sir?!”

She shrugs. “You hurt him with your cock. So I’m going to make sure you learn a lesson.”

The next kick is just as jarring, and this time you cannot hold back your sob. You pull your hands behind your back, looking up pleadingly. She hums softly and pulls away again.

“Strip for me. Touch yourself, and I’ll kick it again.”

You nod, and again she disappears, back to her bag. You wince with every movement you make, every jarring sensation bringing you the discombobulated mix of relief, discomfort and thrill. It’s more of a relief as you let your cock free, no longer pressed up against smallclothes, but now throbbing, feeling bruised. It hurts, and yet… no. You will not admit that to yourself. It's nothing more than the relief of atonement.

She returns more quickly than before, grasping leather cording. She is cool, confident, powerful, and you feel yourself shrink down as she approaches. You are at her mercy, you asked for this. Still, you tremble, gut twisting as you guess what she may be up to.

“The problem with men like you, is you think too much with your cock, and not enough with your brains. I thought you were a clever man, Grieve.”

“I-I am! He’s just.. He’s too pretty for his own good, he drives me crazy!”  
“Then learn to control yourself.” She reaches out and yanks on your balls, and you yelp. It is only discipline that keeps you from pulling away, knowing that it’ll hurt more in the end. In seconds, she’s wrapping the cord of her garrote around them, pulling them away from your cock, snug and secure. They feel heavier than they ever have, and the contact makes you shiver. You stand with your legs spread, uncertain of what to expect next. You try not to feel dizzy, already feeling your blood pulsing harder than usual.

“Tell me, do you think I’m attractive? Be honest.”

“Y-yes sir. You’re… You’re stunning. You… You remember. I meant it, this summer, what I said.”

She smiles again, eyes growing distant for a moment. “Mm, that was different. We’ve learned so much since then… haven’t we?”

“Yes… we’ve… We’ve grown up.” You’ve watched her, since those magical days. She's grown harder, thrown herself into her studies more so than either you or Bren. You don’t know where she picked up half these tools, half this knowledge, but you know she wields it with ferocity. You now bear the stripes that prove that, beyond anyone's doubt.

Your own reverie is a mistake. A sharp pain blooms in your cock as a slap rings out.

“You fucked up my plans. I can’t forgive you for that.”

“Wh-what plans?”

Another slap, and you are glad that you are in this room, where no one will hear you. You aren’t sure if you’re moaning in pain or arousal now.

“He was finally growing confident. He’s been making eyes for months, and is too stubborn to make his own move. I need him focused, Grieve. Think about it…”

Again she slaps you, harder now. You think back to the night before, the way he postured during the spell. You’d been charmed, but… You moan in earnest now, everything coming into place.

“You’re a cruel woman.”  
“You’re a simpering bitch. You’d kneel for anyone with half an aptitude for command.”

“Y-yes and?”

This time, the nature of the pain changes, sharper, headier. Your legs shake, and you moan once more, face entirely red. Everything feels swollen, feels heavy and sensitive, feels exhilarating. 

She laughs again, the sound practically foreign. “Gods above, you are a gift. Come, sit with me.”

Eager now, if perhaps disappointed by the change in tone, you follow, relishing the sting and pressure building in your groin as you walk. All thoughts of fighting back, of regret have long since faded. Already, you feel your mind lighter. Astrid will punish you, and you will be absolved.

She moves like liquid, a beautiful spring stream, with ice still flowing through the rapids. Your jaw goes slack in astonishment as she pulls off her pants, revealing a distinct lack of small clothes and an even more distinct scent. She’s been enjoying this as much as you have, it would seem. 

“Impressed? Is this what you’ve wanted?”

You nod, and approach, hands out. They’ve barely glanced her skin when you cry out again, pain blossoming anew in your balls as she kicks again.

“Hands. Off. I warned you, did I not?”  
“Y-yes Sir…” tears prick in your eyes and again you fall to your knees, now between her legs, ever so close to her cunt, ever so close to fulfilling the only purpose you’ve ever sought.

“You’re going to be a good boy for me now. My little pawn… Yes, I’ve decided. I’m going to jack off now. You will watch, and you will stroke the pitiful thing you call a cock, but you will not cum unless I command it. Got it?”

You shift slightly, face flushed. “Yes, I-I understand. A debt for a debt.”

“There’s your wit… I should have known a slut like you needed blue balls to think.”

She’s languid as she brings her hand to her slick cunt, fingers nimble as she strokes herself. You watch eagerly, your own hand moving to your now swollen cock. The touch is sweet joy, and you moan softly. She seems pleased by the show, adding her own flourishes and soft sounds to the mix. It takes all your concentration to keep yourself stimulated but on edge. Every time you approach, you feel the cord’s harsh grasp, your orgasm stopped in its tracks. Your mind is fuzzy with desire and need, but you’re determined to be good. What was the point otherwise? You didn’t want to feel a worse punishment, not now. 

And besides, it was worth it, for this view. She’s beauty itself, you think. You know you’re special to have this view. Astrid has always been private, distant, exclusive. There is only one other man you know of who’s seen her like this, and he waits back in your room, in the back of your heart. She’s going to fix this.

Her laughter startles you, and you realise that you’ve been speaking, begging and pleading for her pleasure.

“You said you wanted what Bren and I share… Well. You’re lucky, I suppose.”

“Wh-what.. Do you mean..?

“Oh and you were just being so clever Wulf… I mean I’m going to cum on you, just like I do for Bren, and then I will speak to him, hmm?”

Your eyes go wide, not wanting to miss anything as she strokes herself more intensely, cunt fluttering despite the lack of penetration, clit swollen and surely sensitive. She moans softly, delicately, uncharacteristically, and lets go, her body tensing and releasing a flood of fluid. It sprays into your face, and again you hit your edge, cock spasming and balls pulsing as they’re restricted again by that damned cord. You swear softly, tears in your eyes. She pauses only for a second afterwards before wiping her hand on a thin towel and pulling her bottoms back on with a quick Prestidigitation. She tosses you the towel unceremoniously, and you fumble to catch it and wipe your face.

“That was nice, wasn’t it?”

“Y-yes Sir… V-very nice. Thank you.”

She is gentle now as she unwraps the cord, and the sudden sensation of blood flow returning to your beaten manhood makes you cry out, curling in on yourself. The marks on your back scream out too, suddenly remembered and far worse than before. 

“Sch-schiesse! S-sassa, fuck, what did you do to me?”

“Exactly what needed to be done. Sit still now. I’m cruel, not heartless.”

You yelp again, like a child, as she presses a cool cloth to your back, the unmistakable burn of alcohol rubbing into the wounds.

“Don’t be a baby Wulf. They aren’t that bad. Should heal before Master needs us again.”

“Still hurts like a bitch… Fuck…”

You close your eyes and take deep breaths, focusing on her hands, the gentle touch, the simplicity of her care. It is soothing, even though it is not kind, not sweet or delicate.

“I’ll talk to Bren tomorrow. Make him see some sense. In the meantime… I’ve got an assignment for you.”  
“I am already behind in my work… I don’t have time for games.”  
“Bullshit. You came tonight.”  
“Actually, I didn’t…” you’re reminded too sharply of your aching cock. If you could just touch it a bit more… with her reassurance, it would be fine, would be worth it.

“No, you didn't, you’re right. And you won’t. Not until Bren forgives you. And you will not ignore it. I want you to touch it after every class tomorrow, thinking about him and me, and kneeling at our feet hmm?”

You choke, turning about indignantly. “That’s not fair!”

“No, it isn't. But you will obey, because you are good for me and K ä tzchen.”

“K ä tzchen?”

She merely raises an eyebrow, waiting. You sigh, your body aching now, not letting you forget the ordeal you’ve made it endure.

“Ja, ok, fine. I’ll… report between classes.”

“That’s a good boy, B ärchen.” She smiles fondly, and kisses your head, and suddenly everything seems less dour. “Don’t worry, you asked for my help. I won't let you down.”

You nod and she turns again, waving her hand dismissively as she strides towards the long forgotten target to retrieve her knives. You know better than to challenge her, and quickly don your clothes again, wincing as fabric brushes the shallow cuts across your back, and constricts your sensitive manhood once again.

At least you have something to dread now, something far worse than the chilly reception you are sure to get in your bedroom.

Tomorrow is going to be a long, long day.


End file.
